In Sickness and in Death

by Alana Ling

  She was already there, sipping on my favourite cup of coffee, which she had a pot of with a spare cup for me.

  ‘Okay, Sam, we need to get cracking with the birthday party. Have you had a chance to go through the mother’s notes?’

  Sam nodded. ‘Sixteenth birthday. Theme is American sweet sixteen meets princess fairy tale. Mother wants it to look like a pink utopia, but she also wants it on a budget.’

  ‘Great. Do you have any ideas on what we need or how to find out?’

  ‘Well, I would think we need to look at what she wants, what the daughter wants and what usually happens at sweet sixteen parties to make it work for them. Then we would need to shop around for the best offers on pretty much everything so we can keep to their budget and I imagine so we can make the most profit possible. I was actually going to go hunting at charity shops on Monday and look at online auction stores to see what is there. I’ve already started a list of what we need and their usual prices so we know what prices to expect so we can keep track of the budget.’

  ‘Lovely, let’s see what you get on your Monday trip and we’ll go over it then.’

  Sam smiled and her flavour intensified. I put my coffee down until the rush of cucumber finished.

  ‘I visited Rory today. I met the man we saw Poppy with,’ I told her.

  ‘Oh?’ Sam paused with the cup in front of her mouth.

  ‘It’s Rory’s brother, Lloyd. They used to date, apparently. And he’s adamant he would never hurt his brother.’

  Sam winced. ‘Shut your trap. What?’

  ‘What?’ Sam put her hand in her mouth and giggled.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to call your mouth a trap and did not intend on asking you to shut it.’

  I laughed. ‘It’s okay. I don’t really follow orders anyway.’

  ‘Yeah, you don’t look like you do. Anyway, did you question Lloyd?’

  ‘I did and he said that he broke up with her, but that Poppy had said it was all her and he’s sure that was all part of her plan.’

  ‘What plan?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘What are you going to do, Jo?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve got to go to Daniel with it. He’s the investigator. He needs to know.’

  Sam sipped her coffee and squinted, staring at me.

  ‘You can’t go to him with half the information. We need to find out what Poppy’s plan was.’

  I sat back in my chair and looked her straight in the eyes. ‘It’s none of our business. Even Lloyd said so. And he’s right. We were there to plan a wedding, and now there is no wedding.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s got to be killing you, isn’t it? I mean, I want to know what happened. And it is our business. We were there to plan a wedding and now, thanks to one of them, there is no wedding. This has bad reputation written all over it. And you’re new in the business. You need to keep a clear name or you’ll be out of it before you’ve even started.’

  I bit my lips and the coffee smell hit my nostrils again and I was ready to resume drinking it. I didn’t want to admit it, but Sam’s words made sense. Poppy’s murder spelled trouble for my party planning, and if there was one thing I didn’t want to do, that was prove Preston right and fail at my first venture since our divorce.

  ‘Okay, so what are you thinking?’ I asked Sam.

  Nine

  Sunday morning, we were standing in the Guildfords’ living room with Lesley, Sarah, Gemima and Amanda.

  The quiet in the room deafened me as we waited for the maid to serve the tea. Sarah sat on the big sofa, her eyes red and puffy, and a handkerchief hanging from her hands. She wore a black skirt suit and pumps with black tights. She definitely looked the part of a grieving mother even if it pained me thinking so.

  Lesley, on the other hand, stood by the large fireplace in his most pristine black suit and purple tie watching his wife and his daughter’s two best friends, who were sitting on either side of Poppy’s mother. Gemima wore a pair of black trousers and a white blouse, while Amanda wore another dress in a shade of yellow, this one edging on canary. Not the most appropriate colour, given the circumstances.

  The tea was served to everyone, starting with us and Lesley being the last, which was when he finally sat down to join us.

  ‘There really wasn’t a need for all this,’ I said. ‘We just wanted to check how you’re holding up. But thank you very much. This a lovely cup of tea.’

  ‘Nonsense. A passing is no reason for bad manners,’ Sarah said.

  Sam smiled at her and then turned to stare at me.

  ‘Have you heard from the police? Have they got any news?’ I asked.

  Lesley sipped his tea. ‘Nothing yet. They’re still waiting for the coroner to complete the autopsy, but they’re saying it looks as if she suffocated.’

  ‘Do they have any leads on the murderer?’ Sam asked.

  The whole room flinched at the mention of the word. Sarah sank back into her handkerchief and shuddered. Gemima shot a nasty look at Sam and Amanda brought her hand up to her chest and gasped. Lesley was the only who didn’t react.

  ‘I don’t understand why you’re all acting so shocked. Poppy was murdered after all. We might as well get used to the word,’ he said.

  Sam leaned forward to grab her cup. ‘Do you have your suspicions? Had Poppy upset someone?’

  ‘Seriously?’ Gemima gasped and looked at Sam with disgust.

  Sam wasn’t affected in the slightest. ‘Well, you never know what could send someone over the edge. Maybe the flowers weren’t right, or the cake tasted too sweet, or the registrar was too loud. Some people are not mentally all there. And all it takes is a tiny suggestion to make them flip,’ she said, holding her cup between her hands. You wouldn’t think she was discussing murder from looking at her.

  The silence returned to the room. Sarah sobbed in her handkerchief and Gemima rubbed her back.

  ‘Can we change the subject please?’ Amanda pleaded.

  Lesley uncrossed his legs and smirked. ‘Shall we make it more fun and pretend our daughter hasn’t been murdered? Sure, let’s do that.’ His flavour of sweet potato fries dipped in mayo erupted in my mouth, making me hungry.

  ‘Well, we have told the police all of this so why go over it again?’ Gemima said.

  ‘Running through the same story again and again, sometimes you remember more details,’ I said.

  Sarah started sobbing again and Gemima wasn’t having any of it. ‘I think it’s time you go,’ she said, standing up.

  I nudged Sam and we both stood. We really hadn’t found out anything new and ideally I didn’t want to leave empty-handed.

  ‘By the way, we saw Lloyd with Poppy the other day. He told me they used to be together, but he broke up with her, is that true?’ I asked taking extra-long to pick up my purse. I fiddled with the straps and the contents for as long as possible to draw out a reaction.

  Sarah removed the handkerchief from her face. ‘Poppy broke up with him,’ she said, then collapsed back into her grieving. ‘Oh, my God. Did he kill her? He said he was okay with the deal.’ Sarah let out a loud wail. It took all my strength not to wince. Her beef dipped in horseradish flavour made my tongue burn and I looked to Sam to wash it out.

  ‘Lloyd mentioned Poppy’s plan. Is that the deal you’re talking about?’

  Lesley cleared his throat and the girls looked at Sarah who let out another cry. ‘We should never have done business with that family. They killed my poor child.’

  ‘You’re upsetting Mrs Guildford. I think you need to go,’ Gemima said and ushered us out while Amanda went back to soothing Sarah.

  ‘Well, that was enlightening.’ Sam said when we got into my car.

  ‘Please! We know nothing more than we did before we came here.’

  Sam pointed her finger at me and made me pause before I turned the ignition on.

  ‘But we did find out that Poppy had a business transaction with the Blakelys.’

  ‘But,’ I said pointing
my own finger at her, mimicking her passion, ‘for all we know they’re talking about doing business with each other’s companies.’ I put my finger down. ‘They’ve both got big firms and big money. They could have been talking about liquidation, co-ownership, whatever it is businesspeople do.’

  I drove off and put that cursed house behind me, although, admittedly, it did feel much more welcoming without Poppy in it.

  ‘My nose tells me I’m right,’ Sam said and touched her nose.

  ‘And my tongue is giving me nothing,’ I said, not caring to elaborate, despite the gawking stare from my car companion.

  After a quick stop at home to park the car in the underground garage and to pick up Alfie, I took Sam across the street to the Oak Tavern. Jamie was the first to greet us with a pile of plates in his hands and a big smile across his face. As soon as Alfie saw him, Jamie put the plates away and bent down to pet Alfie, who went licking around his head, probably smelling the shea butter he used on his short, dark afro curls.

  As soon as he’d got Alfie’s affection he turned around to serve us. From the corner of my eye, I could feel people staring at me. I snapped my head to their direction and an attractive young brunette woman and an elderly man with greying hair turned their attention back to each other.

  ‘I’m about to finish actually, do you want to stay here or do you want to go next door?’ he said, dropping to his knees to pet Alfie, who was acting like the proper attention seeker that he was, sprawled across the floor asking for his belly to be rubbed.

  Next door was a winery that only served French wine of the triple digits per bottle range, and one where Jamie was happy to give his patronage, although he would’ve never stepped inside the place as an employee.

  After explaining to Sam what next door was and seeing the horror of the prices in her eyes we settled for a small table in the back of the pub, away from the hustle and bustle taking place at the bar, which Kit was glued behind, too busy serving pints of bitter and sending tickets to the kitchen for Sunday roast to do much else.

  ‘What have you girls been up to?’ Jamie asked after taking a calculating taste of his Kölsch beer. Behind him a group of women were attempting to be discreet, staring us down, but failing miserably.

  Alfie, who had now grown bored of both Jamie and the bowl of water he’d got for him, was now resting between Sam and I and our generous servings of South African pinotage red wine.

  Sam screeched with excitement. ‘It’s been a great day. We’re investigating the murder of Poppy Guildford, which,’ she said, turning to me, her voice going down a notch, ‘to be honest is much more fun than planning her wedding.’

  Jamie cocked his head and looked from one of us to the other, resting his eyes on me. ‘Your assistant is weird.’

  Sam shrugged, accepting of his judgement.

  ‘Also, what do you mean investigating? Surely the police are onto this?’ he asked.

  I nodded, but Sam was eager to add, ‘Yes, but we know more, so we’re doing our own round of interviews.’ She squealed. If I didn’t know her any better, I’d say she was a psycho getting her high off murder. Except, I didn’t know her any better.

  ‘First,’ Jamie started, putting a stop to her excitement, ‘you’re bloody strange. Second, what do you mean you know more than the police? Someone murdered the poor thing. This stuff is dangerous. You need to tell the police everything you know and leave it up to them. It’s their job.’

  ‘But—’ Sam begun. Jamie cut in.

  ‘Dangerous stuff. There’s no buts,’ he insisted.

  Somehow, his eagerness to stop us snooping around made me all the more passionate to keep going. I didn’t know if it was because he was a man telling two women not to do something because it was dangerous, whether it was years of uncertainty that had made me want to know the truth behind things, or whether it was the people staring at me as if I had bloody ‘murderer’ written on my forehead, despite having nothing to do with Poppy’s wedding. One thing was for sure: there was no stopping me now.

  I was going to prove to Jamie I could do it, to Preston that I didn’t need him to make my life decent, and to those bloody starers that my business was fine and I had nothing to do with Poppy’s murder.

  Two men walked into the bar and sat a couple tables down from us. At first, I couldn’t put my finger on why they looked so familiar, until one of them, a brunet rich guy with a black suit stood up to get drinks at the bar and left his friend, a blond man with short clipped hair and less formal attire, on his own. They were Rory’s best men.

  ‘Look at that table on your two o’clock,’ I said to my friends.

  Sam and Jamie snapped their heads in that direction.

  ‘Discreetly.’ I cursed under my breath. ‘That’s Rory’s best man. And so is the guy with the drinks,’ I said as the other guy returned to his seat with two pints of lager. ‘The blond one is Tom and the other guy is Robert.’

  ‘So what?’ Jamie asked, raising his perfect eyebrows.

  I shrugged at him, innocently. ‘I’m observing my former clients.’

  Sam grabbed my wrist. I looked back at the table. ‘Look at Tom. Looks like he’s lost his soul in the bottom of that glass,’ she said.

  Tom was gazing into his beer with both hands supporting his head over it and his eyes dark and sad. Robert on the other hand was a happy chap, looking around him until he spotted a young girl, the brunette hanging out with the old man that had been staring at me, and he started flirting with her while the older man was kissing her neck.

  ‘They’re weird,’ Jamie said and looked at Sam, ‘and you, stop dragging her into this.’

  ‘Okay, so Robert I understand. He might not have been close to the bride so he’s not affected that much by her murder. But Tom? What’s he in a rut for?’

  I was wondering the exact same thing as Sam, both of us completely ignoring Jamie.

  ‘That’s a very interesting question, Sam. We should find out.’

  Ten

  I woke up to Alfie licking my fingers, which were hanging off the bed. I pushed him away with a groan and looked at my phone.

  I jumped out and into the shower in record time. Only when I had applied copious amounts of shampoo did I remember I had nowhere to be thanks to Poppy’s untimely passing last week. All I needed to do was catch up on some emails and my work day would be over.

  I massaged my scalp, deciding that for the first time in months, I could have a day to look after myself without the added stress all Poppy’s texts gave me. I rubbed my body with the sponge and felt fresh walking out of the shower.

  As expected, Alfie had already gone to the toilet in the house, so after cleaning it up, dressing up in a yellow floral dress and black tights with matching white and yellow trainers, I grabbed his lead and took him out.

  We walked by the seaside mingling with the tourists. The smell of popcorn and toffee penetrated my nostrils from the fair by the port. They almost tempted me and my taste buds to go that way and taste them for real, but the sheer volume of people made me stay away.

  Instead I pulled Alfie up the road passing through the centre, heading for the park at the end of town. If there was anywhere we were bound to find some solitude and peace, it would be in the vast space of Emerald Park.

  I saw the park gates and a family going in with a picnic basket and a couple of backpacks. It was, after all, quite a sunny day and the perfect weather for alfresco dining.

  ‘Jo, is that you?’ I heard someone to my right. Alfie ran towards Daniel before I even saw it was him.

  I approached him and Alfie got his second chance in three days to sprawl out and succumb to the police officer’s affections.

  ‘Hey, Daniel, are you off to the park?’

  He looked towards it dismissively. ‘Nah, just on my lunchbreak. I thought I’d try the new Laos street-food restaurant.’

  I remembered reading in the papers that it was opening and that the owner had sealed a very good deal with the previous manager who
used to run an all-day English breakfast sort of place. The new owner was half Laotian, half Australian, and had relocated with his Scottish wife in Haven-on-Sea. It was one of the reasons I was happy to return home after my divorce and all my travels with Preston. We might have lived in the biggest metropolises in the entire world, but nothing beat home. Who would think this little town on the southern coast of England would be the best place in the world to be?

  Definitely not my ex-husband, born and bred Havenian, who could never be contained by, or content with, his birth town. But for me? Haven-on-Sea had everything I needed to live happily. It was a great melting pot of traditions and cultures not only from around the UK, but of the entire world as well. It had some of the best award-winning restaurants and bars in the country and the continent. And the people? After meeting with cover models, obnoxious producers, self-obsessed businessmen and big-headed starlets, the people of Haven-on-Sea didn’t hold a candle to them. I was happier in my town, with my cheeky dog and my little business than I ever was in New York, Paris, Hong Kong or even London.

  ‘How was it?’ I asked him, realising my pause had lasted longer than socially acceptable.

  He scrunched up his face and shook his head. ‘I’d rather go down to the Oak and get a cottage pie if I’m honest.’

  I laughed. Asian cuisine wasn’t for everyone.

  ‘How’s the investigation going?’

  ‘You know I can’t tell you, Jo. But I’ve got her autopsy report back, just waiting on toxicology,’ he replied, his face all serious.

  ‘I see. I know who the guy we saw with Poppy was by the way.’

  Alfie had grown tired of Daniel’s attention and was now sniffing the wall along the street.

  ‘Lloyd Blakely, brother of the groom and Poppy’s ex? Yeah, I looked into it.’

  ‘Did it help? Is he the killer?’

  Daniel grinned and pointed his finger at me before bidding me goodbye and heading downtown again, back to the station. If Lloyd had been the killer surely they would have arrested him by now. Unless they didn’t have enough proof.